Next Steps
by placidusXsomnium
Summary: After defeating Aizen, the next logical thing for Ichigo to do is to go to Soul Society, right? Yeah, well, easier said than done. He's gotta die first and that could pose a few problems, especially with some new threats on the horizon...
1. Chapter 1

**Note I: **This story takes place after the Winter War and Ichigo never lost his powers. The way it _**should**_ have been…

**Note II**: This may be rated M but that does NOT mean that there is sex in it. _Maybe_ just a _mention_ of it here and there _if_ I decide to put some Ichiriki in it, but nothing remotely graphic. The actual reason that it is rated M is because it will get pretty gory. And bloody. At least, if I continue the story it will.

**Chapter 1**

On the last day of his life, Ichigo Kurosaki woke up feeling rather good. The sun was shining, there had been no hollows last night, a particularly annoying stuffed toy was nowhere to be seen and best of all, he woke up without the aid of his father, or his father's foot for that that matter. Yes, a nice, hell, a great day was beginning. If not for the fact that he was scheduled to die later that night, the day could have been classified as perfect. The resident shinigami glanced over at his alarm clock and smiled; he could stay in bed for another ten minutes before he had to get ready for school. He let his head flop back onto the pillow and reveled in the silence of the morning. Wait. Silence? Sitting up quickly, Ichigo scanned the room with a slightly wary gaze. Everything seemed to be in place; everything except the slightly ajar closet door. Where was Rukia? The orange-haired boy clambered to his feet and almost fell on his face as the bed sheets that snaked their way around his legs held him fast to the bed. After a moment or so of wrestling with the cotton, Ichigo was free to wander about his room and look for any signs of his midget-counterpart's whereabouts. He quickly found a hideous drawing and a letter explaining to him that she had "…been called back to Soul Society for a short while…" and "…should be back soon." Ichigo grunted, placed the letter next to his uniform, and walked soundlessly into the bathroom.

Upon arriving at Karakura High, Ichigo soon discovered that his last day would be like any other. School was the usual, tired event that it always was: Ochi-sensei lectured, time passed too slowly, and the entire class struggled to stay awake in the heat of the rapidly approaching summer. Ichigo sat pensively at his desk, pondering issues much larger than the Japanese language. He was going to die tonight. How weird that sounded, even if he was only saying it inside his head. Dead. By tonight. He understood what was going to happen, but on some level, it didn't feel real. How can one fathom the end of their own existence? And do so calmly for that matter. He wasn't sick and he wasn't going to be murdered. Suicide didn't necessarily apply to him and neither did euthanasia. He wasn't suffering from a terminal illness, in fact, he was perfectly healthy. So why was he going to die?...

Flashback

Urahara Kisuke sat across from Ichigo at a little table in a back room of Urahara Shoten. Ichigo's father sat to the right of Urahara and Yourichi to the left. Tessai stood alone with his back to the door. The motley crew were sipping tea and casually discussing Ichigo's impending demise.

"As it stands Kurosaki-san, Central 46 and the Soutaicho have both deemed you unfit to remain in the World of the Living. The nature of your power is too unstudied. As a combination of shinigami, human and hollow, you possess quite a threat to all of the worlds. That is without your, eh…evolution, for lack of a better word. Your power has surpassed all known beings and it is now impossible to predict what other changes you will experience. Also, too much reaitsu resides in you. If you lost control for only a second, it is quite possible that everyone who possesses so much as a drop of reaitsu within a 12km radius would be obliterated."

Urahara sighed and brought his teacup to his lips.

Isshin, now looking curiously at Urahara said,

"Kisuke, what exactly are you proposing?"

The green and white capped store-owner merely laughed and said,

"Isshin, you of all people should be able to figure it out. It is similar to what happened when you came to live here so you could be with Masaki. Well, the reverse, I suppose. We, or rather Tessai and myself, are going to kill Kurosaki Ichigo."

Haha…cliffhanger. Aren't I mean?

A/N: Alright, shorter than expected. But I promise you that I will make the next one longer. Please review and let me know if I should continue or not. Hopefully, you will want me to continue…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Note**: We are still in flashback mode people…

"We, or rather Tessai and myself, are going to kill Kurosaki Ichigo."

The shopkeeper smiled slightly and a mischief gleamed in his eyes. Three things happened at once. Yourichi turned to look at Urahara so fast that the force of her motion launched the teacup out of her hand and through the opposite wall. Isshin, who had been cracking his knuckles, popped them so hard that he nearly dislocated his fingers while his son choked and spluttered on the tea that had been traveling down his throat at that moment. The shopkeeper giggled.

"Now, now, calm down. Let me finish. Kurosaki-san, you are aware of the fact that when you are in Shinigami form, you are _technically_ dead, correct? Well, we are simply going to dispose of your body so that you can live your life in Soul Society as, well, a _soul_. You will be calling Soul Society home from now on and it would be pointless for you to have a body here." At this point, the now _not_ choking Ichigo tried to interrupt but was quickly silenced by both his father and Yourichi. "Hush, Kurosaki-san. Yare, yare, so rude today. When you return to this world for short periods of time, a gigai will be provided by myself. You really have nothing to concern yourself with so I don't know why you are complaining."

Ichigo had been steadily turning a more purple shade with each passing minute. It clashed magnificently with his hair and the overall effect was rather comical. However, with Urahara's last statement, the boy paled and sat in silent incredulity. It was Isshin who spoke next.

"Kisuke, how do plan to accomplish this. I think all of us here, even Ichigo, know that he cannot remain in this world. But, how are you going to do this? We can't exactly run his human body through with a zanpakuto. And we can't wait seventy years for him to die. Also the death must look somewhat natural. Granted, a healthy seventeen year old boy dropping dead isn't exactly natural but health records can be forged. We would need several months if we were going to tell everyone that he is sick; no one dies overnight from a terminal illness. He's not the type to commit suicide…" Isshin continued to muse about his son's death while Yourichi and Urahara listened thoughtfully, occasionally nodding their heads. Ichigo, however, stared pensively into his tea, not hearing anything that the others said.

"Isshin, I leave the explanation up to you. I just do the actual killing." Urahara smirked.

"With my little friend here," he produced a rather vicious looking syringe, "your death will come as quickly and painlessly as your reaitsu allows it to." The blonde man leaned back against the wall in triumph.

"Wait," the orange-haired boy began, "what do you mean, "as quickly and painlessly as my reaitsu allows it?" If I am going to voluntarily die, I want it to be painLESS."

"Ahhh…so you are accepting your death? That is quite...graceful…of you, Kurosaki-san. As for the matter by which you die, well…it isn't the most…heh…_well-studied_ of methods."

Ichigo looked at the man with a half confused, half murderous expression.

"Although you are the only one currently in existence, you are not the only shinigami-daiko to have ever existed. None of them were as powerful as you, though. You see, when a substitute shinigami wanted to become a true soul reaper, it was pointless to kill them, thus erasing their memories, and re-train them to be a proper shinigami. So, a poison was developed that would affect only the human body of said shinigami-daiko, leaving the memories and experience of the soul completely intact. When the poison is injected, your soul must be present so that your physical and spiritual being can properly separate. However, that does create some issues. The poison is acts a magnet that enters the body, pulling the reaitsu out of each and every cell in your body. Yes, _each_ and _every_ cell. You see, there many think that reaitsu dwells only within the souls itself. That is quite incorrect. Quite incorrect, indeed. As studies conducted by myself and Kurotsuchi-taicho have shown, there is a tiny bit of reaitsu left in the human body when the shinigami-daiko soul and the body separate. Not enough to consider the body "alive" but this keeps the body in more of a comatose state rather than a dead one so that it doesn't rot when the soul is elsewhere, especially for long periods of time. Now, don't think that you are not dead when your soul and physical body separate. You are, but I like to think of it as being nine-tenths dead versus completely dead." Urahara smiled before continuing. "The remaining spiritual energy also allows the reaitsu of the soul to merge with reaitsu in the body, making the return to the body and movement easier."

"Information gathered from observations of this euthanasia of sorts has led us scientists to believe that the experience is generally not a pleasant one. The last subject reported a strong discomfort. The one before him complained of stabbing pains all over her body. Also, it took considerably longer for the latter to separate her two beings. It seems that the time it takes to die and the amount of pain one feels is directly related to the level of reaitsu that the shinigami-daiko possesses. The second shinigami was considerably stronger than her male predecessor. Unfortunately for you, this is not good news. We cannot predict how much pain you will be in or how long it will take for your two beings to separate. All I can tell you is that the two previous shinigami-daikos did not even rank as a sixth seat in terms of power."

Urahara concluded his speech by snapping out his fan and covering his mouth and nose in one fluid motion. Isshin closed his eyes and let his head drop. "Oh Masaki…you would be so ashamed of me." He whispered quietly and only Urahara heard the widower's comment. They were all quiet for a long minute. Then, Ichigo spoke, surprising them all.

"So, when is this going to happen?"

Isshin and Urahara's heads snapped up together, eyes wide. Ichigo saw the mirrored looks on displayed so blatantly on their faces and laughed softly before continuing.

"I know that I can't stay here. I've know that ever since I stopped Rukia's execution. I have seen too much to continue living a life where the biggest hassle is what to eat for dinner. I mean, I guess not everyone looks at it like that. You don't, dad. But, I'm not you, and I just can't adjust to this lifestyle and I don't have someone like mom to help me. I think I need a life where it is normal to walk around with a sword on your back and bigger things on your mind than stopping to get milk on your way home from work. So, now my question to you is, when? When and how. When am I going to die and am I going to do it myself, are you or dad going to do it, what?"

Ichigo's quiet speech hit the others with a heavy realization. They had all trained him to be a warrior, a savior. They did not realize though, that their training had aged him as well. Here was a seventeen year old kid, who was mentally competing with three beings whose combined age totaled well over four hundred years. Urahara was the first to reply.

"You will inject yourself with this serum one week from now. That should give you plenty of time to sort things out and explain everything to those who you deem important enough. Eat dinner with your family, then say goodnight and go to your bedroom. Lay down, I would suggest injecting it into your thigh but it really doesn't matter where you do it, and wait for death to come. Since we anticipate it to be painful, I would object to letting your sisters and friends watch."

The capped man then handed over the syringe which was accepted by the boy. He held it in his hand, not sure if he should put it in his pocket. With a glance at his father, the two Kurosaki men stood up, thanked their hosts and slipped out into the wet darkness of the stormy night.

**End Flashback**

**Present time: One week later…**

"Ichi-nii! Dinner!"

Yuzu's call echoed up the stairwell and penetrated through the thin wood of Ichigo's bedroom door. He had been laying down, staring at the ceiling, and wondering where Rukia had gotten to. She was supposed to have been home by now. Not that he cared. At his little sister's shout the young man made his way down to the kitchen.

Dinner was the usual event that it always was at the Kurosaki household. Isshin and Ichigo fought, Yuzu tried to mediate, and Karin acted as a bored spectator. But, the fighting was a little too over the top, and both father and son seemed a little too animated. In actuality, both were just trying keep the meal as normal as possible for the twins that were eating with them. Of course, the girls knew what was going on but, it made it a little easier if they didn't dwell on the fact that their much-loved brother was going to inject poison into his body in twenty-three minutes. After dinner, Ichigo, Isshin and even Karin helped Yuzu clean up and they all enjoyed some long-abandoned bonding time. No one acted as if the orange-haired boy that playfully splashed water on his sister was going to die in eleven minutes. Soon, the dishes were done and the kitchen was spotless. Ichigo looked at the clock: 7:58. Exactly two minutes before his scheduled not-suicide. Two minutes to say good bye. Both of his sisters saw the time and both saw their brother crouch down in front of them, each of his hands gripping one of theirs.

"Karin, Yuzu," he began thickly,

"I-…please. Please do NOT worry. I swear to you, everything is going to be okay. NO matter what you hear, it's all going to be okay."

At this point, tears had spilt down Yuzu's cheeks and dripped off her chin. Karin was trying to be stoic but pain and unshed tears gleamed brightly in her eyes. It was only a matter of time before she stared crying too. Ichigo continued,

"I will see you soon, and know that I am always watching out for you. If you ever need me, just talk to old goat-chin over there and I will come as soon as I can. I love you guys. So much. Goodnight, Yuzu, Karin."

He placed a soft kiss on each of their foreheads and then dropped their hands. With a long look at his father, Ichigo walked up the stairs to his bedroom and to his death.

A/N: Damn. Don't Ichigo's problems make yours seem so stupid? You know, "aw man I gotta study for that math test. " vs. "shit, man. I am gonna die tonight…" I thought so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: There will be some hypodermic needle usage in the next few paragraphs. I would say that it isn't particularly graphic but then again, I like to watch all of those gory crime shows and horror movies. My definition of "graphic" could be a little off. And, there are always those of you who just can't stand the thought of needles. That's cool too. Just be wary. (I put a little note before the actual needle usage so you don't have to read the word "needle" and freak. Haha I just realized that you read the word "needle." I hope none of you are convulsing in front of your computer…heh. Sorry…..NEEDLE! OK, I'm done.)

**Chapter 3**

Everything about the second floor of the Kurosaki home seemed dark and quiet. The shadows were blacker than usual, the air thicker. _A little_ _foreboding but strangely peaceful_, thought Ichigo. He slipped quietly into his bedroom, as soundless and weightless as a specter. The room was just a dark as the hallway but something was off. The full moon that was shining through his window provided no light; it merely bleached a portion of his bed and desk. And Rukia was still not home. For the first time that day, Ichigo actually worried. Had something happened? Probably not. He was just overreacting. But still, she had promised him that she would be there when his body and soul fully and finally separated. She had promised him that she wouldn't leave him to die alone. Stupid, he chastised himself. She would come. And it wasn't like he _needed_ her to be with him, or anything.

**If you don't like needles, don't read this next part. **

Sighing, he picked up the syringe off his desk and held it up to his window. He had seen plenty of syringes with his father being a doctor, and he had even injected a few into patients when the rest of his family needed him to. This one though, compared to other syringes that he had seen, was particularly large and the needle seemed more than a little sharp. In fact, it looked _dangerous_; like it could kill. _Dumb_, he though, _of course it can kill. It's _going _to kill me. Cripes, why am I being such a baby about this._ With a determined huff, Ichigo undid his belt and pants and let them drop to his knees. He uncapped the tip an aligned the very sharp end of the needle with a random point on his thigh. The shiny little point indented the skin a little. He looked back at his door one last time, saying a silent goodbye and with much more force than necessary, plunged the syringe into his leg.

…

Nothing. He felt nothing. No, he wasn't dead. In fact, Kurosaki Ichigo, AKA the boy who should be dead right about now, was still standing in the middle of his darkened room, very much alive, and with not the slightest twinge of discomfort. He looked around the room as if something in it had kept him alive. He picked up the now empty syringe and examined it. The cavity that had once held the milky potion was empty, its contents having been expelled into the muscle of his thigh. This little device he held in his hand looked so fragile now; it couldn't take a life if it tried. _Hnnn. Well that was…stupid._ He looked at his thigh. There was this little pinprick that oozed a single drop of blood; nothing to get excited over. Ichigo tossed the needle into the wastebasket by his door and stalked over to his bed. If he wasn't going to die right away, there was no need for him to be standing in the middle of his bedroom floor with his pants around his knees. He should at least be comfortable if he has to _wait _for death.

The bed creaked and groaned as it absorbed his weight. Ichigo lay on top of the sheets for a minute before deciding that it was a little chilly and pulling a light blanket over him. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, almost as if he could will himself dead and this whole night over and done with. He looked around, unable to get comfortable with his surroundings and rolled onto his side. Then he rolled to his other. Next onto his stomach. The restless, twisting dance lasted until Ichigo had his legs and feet vertical against the wall and his head hanging off the opposite edge of the bed. _What is wrong with me?_ He just couldn't get comfortable. He wasn't in pain or discomfort, there was just that nagging in the pit of his stomach that kept screaming at him to shift into a different position. Ichigo sighed. First he didn't know if the poison worked, and now he can't even relax comfortably. He held his hand up to the gleaming moon and marveled at the way the moonbeams bleached his skin to almost a pale as Rukia's. _Rukia. Where is she? I thought she'd be back by now. I wish…no. I will not think that. I don't need her like that._ With his fingers splayed against the opaque white background, he closely examined the way they were shaped. How odd, hands were. Why did they have to feel so much? Every movement and touch sent little tingles racing up his arm. Actually, when he thought about it, the tingly-sensation was not just in his hands, but in his entire body. The poison had begun its work.

It wasn't painful, per say, just annoying. He swung his legs down and lay like any normal person would lie on a bed, his hand still held aloft. The more he focused on the little pins and needles, the stronger they grew until all of the muscled in his body felt like they had fallen asleep. At that moment, Isshin knocked at the wooden door and quietly pushed it open.

"Ichigo, are you alright in here?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah, dad. I'm ok." The boy laughed lightly at this and Isshin responded by slipping into the room and over to his dying son's bedside.

"How do you feel?"

"I don't feel bad, actually. There are just these weird little pins and needles all over my body. I guess that is the poison working. Huh, Urahara said that it would be worse than this. This is nothing. I've gotten worse paper cuts than this." Ichigo smirked up at his father.

Isshin smiled and awkwardly reached down to pat his son on the forehead. Memories surfaced of when Ichigo was a boy. A much younger Isshin patting his son on the head goodnight after his beautiful mother has placed a gentle kiss there. The man was drawn back to the present as he remembered his beloved wife's funeral and his son's present condition. Sighing, Isshin walked out of Ichigo's room to go tuck his twin daughters into their beds. He smiled softly to himself as the father climbed into his own bed. His son was strong; he could handle whatever this poison would do to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note**: Ikkaku and several other characters come in during this chapter. I am not entirely sure about Ikkaku's speech style because when I was reading the manga, I was more concerned with the story line rather than the speech habits of particular characters. I always thought though, that if I met Ikkaku in real life, he would talk like this.

**Note II**: Call me a sucker but I love studying the emotional ties between people and then writing about them. I have done that to most of the characters in Bleach including the ones you will read below. If you don't like it, get over it. I wrote this story and I will continue to do it the way I see fit. Write your own if you have an issue.

**Chapter** **4**

It was late when Kuchiki Rukia returned to Karakura. Soul Society had kept her hours longer than she had planned and they wouldn't let her go. She practically had to beg to be here now…

The petite shinigami soared from rooftop to rooftop on her path to see her dying friend. It wasn't like she _had_ to be there, Ichigo was strong. He could handle it alone. Still, you only die once. After several minutes of shunpo, the Kurosaki Clinic came into view. A smile blossomed across Rukia's face as she drew nearer to Ichigo. No. Not Ichigo. She was coming to see everyone, not just him, though, he was a big part of it. Her eyes shifted to his window. _Baka_, he had left it closed. _Now I am going to have to use the front door and risk waking the entire household up. Smart, Ichigo. Really smart._ With one final flashstep, Rukia landed not three feet from the door. Smirking to herself, she quietly pushed it open and disappeared inside the dark home.

It was a little hazardous, trying to find her way in the pitch black. But, she'd rather sacrifice the tips of her toes than the sleep of her overworked housemates. After a few near-stumbles, several choice curse words, three stubbed toes, one tack in the heel, and four shin bangs, Rukia finally made it to the stairs. Grumbling, she ascended to the second story where she knew that the orange haired boy would be waiting for death.

Rukia ghosted into Ichigo's room. His neon alarm clock flaunted vibrant numbers to the otherwise dark room. 12:37AM; over three hours after Ichigo had injected poison into his body. She looked at his lithe form, curled onto its side, facing the wall. It was hard to make out details in the inky blackness but he seemed to be alright. She padded softly over to his bed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. His warmth radiated up her fingertips along with the little tremors that rumbled through his body every few seconds. Wait, tremors? Panicked, Rukia pulled on Ichigo so that he was lying on his back. With one hand she awkwardly smoothed the fiery hair away from his damp forehead and with the other, she flicked a soft light on. The sight that greeted her made vivid memories of bad times resurface. It was like Kaien all over again. Sweat dripped of the boy's face and saturated his hair and shirt. His muscular body shook and rippled with little spasms and his beautiful, amber eyes had rolled up until only white showed. He looked sick and hurt and frightening. Rukia froze. She was afraid. _Afraid of what?_, she chastised herself. But, no matter how hard she tried she could not tear her eyes away from the boy who had now begun to gasp horribly for air. Gathering up all of her will and strength, she ran into Isshin's bedroom. She didn't care if she woke anyone up. She didn't care if anyone saw the oh-so-composed Kuchiki break her façade and allow fear to show plainly on her pale face. She ran into Ichigo's father's room and all but dragged him from the room.

He sat up groggily from his position on the floor (she had flipped the mattress over) and once he saw the frantic expression on Rukia's face, he immediately clambered out from the mountain of mattress, blankets, and pillows that had accumulated on the floor. Together they sprinted to the teen's bedroom and flung the door open, dreading what they would find.

Ichigo had shifted position so that he was curled back on his side. Only now, he faced the door and all who entered could see the whites of his tearing eyes and his white-knuckled hands clenching uselessly at the collar of his soaked shirt. Rivulets of dark blood ran down his neck from the canyons that his fingers had clawed. More ravines could be seen on his chest and arms. He had gone so far as to rip gashes in his shirt. It appeared as if he had tried to claw the pain out of his body.

Rukia whimpered and took a step toward him. Then, she stopped, ran to the bathroom, and returned a few minutes later with a washcloth and a bowl of cool water. She slipped quietly to Ichigo's side and set the bowl on his desk. Ever so gently, Rukia sat down cross-legged and guided his head into her lap. After he was settled, she placed the saturated cloth over his forehead and murmured comforting nothings into his ear.

Isshin watched the exchange between Rukia and his son in silence. He saw her lay the cool washcloth over Ichigo's forehead and her lips move with sweet words. She would take care of him. Isshin excused himself with a small cough and hastily made his way down the creaking stairs to call Urahara.

"Urahara Shoten, Uraha-"

"Shut it, Kisuke. Get your ass over here."

The shopkeeper was silent for a minute.

"I take it it's not going well?"

"Kisuke, you really need to be here. It's bad. Worse than we expected. Ichigo can take a lot but, this? I don't know, Kisuke."

"What, he might die from the pain? That _is_ the objective, Isshin."

"Kisuke…" the former shinigami growled.

"I'm on my way. Don't do anything until I get there."

Four minute and twenty seven seconds later, Urahara Kisuke and Kurosaki Isshin stood with their heads together in the living room of the Kurosaki household. Then, after a few moments, Isshin led Urahara up to the shinigami-daiko's bedroom. When they arrived, the scene was similar to the one Isshin had left not fifteen mintues before. Rukia still sat cross-legged with Ichigo's head in her lap, and Ichigo still drew in tight breaths through gritted teeth.

Urahara hung back and observed the situation. Then, he turned and left the room.

Isshin followed to grab his arm and pull him back.

"What the hell are you doing, Kisuke?"

The blonde man just looked at his friend.

"There isn't anything I can do. There isn't anything _anyone_ can do. The poison is working perfectly. All we have to do now is wait it out. I told you before; it would be as painless as his reaitsu allowed it. He has a massive amount of reaitsu so therefore, he will be, or is already, in a massive amount of pain."

Isshin sighed.

"I should have known that."

Urahara just looked at him. The two men stood like that in the darkened hallway for what seemed to be an immeasurable amount of time. Finally, Isshin spoke.

"I want to bring the girls over to the shop. I don't want them to wake up and see…this. It'll scare them. Especially Yuzu."

Isshin closed his eyes.

"I'll call Tessai."

From the shadows of the second floor hallway, a spikey-headed shadow of a man detached itself. He glided into the orange-haired shinigami's bedroom and, without really seeing anything, he asked,

"He dead yet?"

A soft gasp, nearly inaudible, drew his attention to the corner of the room where the bed stood. Squinting a little, Abarai Renji was able to make out a peculiar shape on top of the mattress. But soon his interest was consumed not by what was on the bed, but by what was making the hoarse, rattling pant that filled his ears. Upon further inspection, he discovered the answers to both of his questions. Rukia was sitting cross-legged at the top of the bed while Ichigo's head rested in her lap, the rest of his long body was laid tensely like it was made of stone. Her hand was gently working its way through his tangled, damp hair as he drew in shallow breaths through clenched teeth. Every now and then, a shudder would rip through his muscles and make everything from his strong back to his white teeth involuntarily shake in pain. Renji stood there staring like an idiot before reality came back to him.

"Oh shit…"

Rukia just looked at him. Her tired face was paler than usual and she wore a look of misery. She looked like she had to watch her friend die painfully while she sat and waited for it to be over, Renji had never seen her look so defeated. He looked at Ichigo again and thought, _If he is making that much of a fuss, this must be really bad_. As if reading his mind, Rukia's voice weakly permeated the air.

"It's only going to get worse."

Renji closed his eyes and looked away. Seconds passed and turned into minutes. Rukia had re-devoted all of her attention to the suffering boy in her lap and tried her best to give him some comfort with soothing words and feathery caresses.

"I gotta go call Soul Society. They sent me to check on him 'cause they haven't seen him around Seireiti. The Soutaicho was curious as to why there were no "disruptions of the peace"." Renji's voice shook as he tried speak softly to Rukia, like he was afraid that she would run away if he was too loud. Seeing Ichigo like this scared him too, even though he'd never admit it, and he could only imagine how she must feel. _She already blames herself for everything that he has gone through; this is probably killing her right now. _He took one last look at his two friends and backed out the door. He forgot to stop moving backwards and only came to a halt when he hit the opposite wall. Then, the lieutenant of the sixth squad sank to the floor. Renji stayed like that for what felt like ages. Just sitting there and watching his friend suffer through something that no one could shield him from. The two men may fight like bitches at times but they have a connection that won't easily break. Ichigo and Renji understood each other on a level that didn't need words. It wasn't that shitty, romantic layer; it was beneath that. This type of understanding only spoke through fists and swords and insults. It was the silent reassurance that they would always have each other's backs, through thick and thin. It was the bond that they both unconsciously longed for and it was the firm belief that brothers never leave the other behind.

(Note: No, they are NOT gay. Jeez, can't anyone read about comradeship without jumping to the wrong conclusion?) 

With a quick flashstep, the red-haired Lieutenant was on the roof of the Kurosaki Clinic. He had his soul pager in hand when he felt a familiar mass of spiritual pressure. He turned and saw Ikkaku, Yumichika, Matsumoto, and Hitsuguya rapidly approaching. Renji tried a cheerful greeting but found his voice to be empty and hollow. It was also barely audible.

"Wha' Renji? Cat got your tongue?" Ikkaku's smug tone sent a wave of nausea through Renji's stomach. He saw that Renji wasn't smiling or rather, throwing a threat or insult back.

"Renji, som'thin wrong, man?"

"Uhhh…" was his intelligent reply.

"C'mon man. Spit it out. Did the kid die yet? He better've. I'll kill him myself."

Renji looked away from Ikkaku and down at his feet. He tried to speak but found that the knot in his throat wouldn't let anything besides air past it. Even that was hard. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing came out. Renji tasted bile and sprinted to the edge of the roof where he emptied the contents of his stomach.

'Fuck Renji! What's gotten into you?" Ikkaku began to sound nervous. Yumichika looked repulsed, Hitsuguya, more than a little concerned, and Matsumoto was disinterested.

"I-Ichigo's bad. He-he's not…good. He's uh…really bad."

It was Hitsuguya who spoke next.

"How bad, Abarai?"

Renji just looked at him. He made a motion to follow and disappeared. The others followed, their curiosity and concern peaked.

A/N: Whew. That was long. Or at least, I think it was long. It was long on my computer when I was typing it. I hope you liked it and I hope you want me to continue. But, then again, I also hope for world peace and a clean happy earth. Neither of those has happened yet so…yeah. Anyway, whether you like it or not, please review. It always helps. (Think of it this way: if you don't like it, review it so I can make it better. And, if you do like it, review it so I can make it so that you like it even more. Does that last part make sense?)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to update. The combination of schoolwork, regular work, and miscellaneous (karate, extracurriculars, chores, you know, the usual) has not been a good one. It seems that time lately has become one speedy little bitch. He should go join Nascar…

Chapter 5

The five shinigami padded silently throughout the Kurosaki house. Their feet were silent but their hearts were heavy; Renji thought that his had dropped to his toes from the weight on it. The trip to Ichigo's room seemed endless. It was like the hallways and rooms just kept extending until they reached distances of infinite proportions. Finally, they reached the door. They all stared at each other; silently daring someone else to open it. No sounds could be heard from behind the thin wood but no one knew whether or not to take that as a good or bad sign. Picking up his abandoned responsibility, Hitsuguya reached out and turned the knob. The door lurched open.

Much to the relief of Renji, not much had changed. Ichigo was still in bad shape but he was not worse. Rukia still cradled his head in her small lap and stroked his hair, whispering softly to him occasionally. Matsumoto sucked in a breath. Rukia twisted her head up to look at the newcomers. She acknowledged them silently and turned back to Ichigo. Slowly, the five shinigami filed over to the bed and looked down at their friend and official-comrade-to-be. They all thought he was their comrade already; they didn't need a formal ceremony to tell them that. A long, heavy quiet filled the empty spaces in the room. Everyone was watching the orange-haired boy fight against his instinctual will to live.

"Well, it don't look too bad." Ikkaku's words were drawn out and casual but his eyes were tense. He squatted next to Ichigo:

"Come on, kid. Hurry up. We got better things to do than to watch you die."

Maybe Ikkaku was expecting a smart ass reply or a deep scowl, but all he got was soft exhale of breath. Wanting more, Ikkaku placed a light hand on Ichigo's shoulder, hoping for some reaction that would tell him that this was still the same boy who had so determinedly fought his way through an empire.

Ichigo screamed. The sound, was short and harsh, not a true, bloodcurdling scream, but still enough to get the basic point of undying agony across. Ikkaku drew back so quickly that he fell backwards onto his rear. The others all leapt back in shock. Coming from anyone, a sound like that would have been terrible, but coming from Ichigo, it made it that much worse. No one had ever expected Ichigo to be one to scream in pain, or to have tears streaming down his face. In a quick motion, the boy buried his face in the comfort of Rukia's lap and his shoulders shook with repressed sobs.

"I am going to go call Soul Society," Hitsuguya spoke as he walked away, "they will want to know about this."

No one looked up to acknowledge the departure; they were all intent upon Ichigo.

It seemed like hours before Hitsuguya came back. In reality, he had only been gone for 20 minutes. However, he did not come back alone. Yourichi, Urahara, Unohana, Kurotsuchi, Tessai, and Isshin all crammed into the already cramped room. A pathway was made so Unohana could reach Ichigo. She knelt by the bed and just watched. Rukia looked down at her questioningly. Gently, Unohana placed a hand over Ichigo's forehead. He thrashed a little before sinking his teeth into his lip in an effort to hold back a cry of pain. Blood welled up around his teeth and a high, keening whimper escaped him. Unohana pulled her hand away, thoughtfully and slowly.

"It seems you were not exaggerating, Urahara-san. His condition is unlike any I have ever seen or heard about. What do you think, Kurotsuchi-taicho?"

Mayuri stalked over and peered downward.

"Well, this is certainly interesting. I wonder how he would react to some tests…"

Ichigo, though obviously occupied by his current predicament, had enough of himself to groan pitifully. Mayuri looked on couriously. Reaching over to prod the boy's forehead he said,

"Hmmmm….very interesting."

"Kurotsuchi-taicho," Unohana stared straight into his painted eyes, "I think it best if we leave Kurosaki-san be. Don't you agree?"

Mayuri sighed in exasperation but backed down.

"So, Unohana-taicho, what do you propose?"

Urahara looked at the healer with something akin to hope. She turned her gaze back to the boy with a motherly expression.

"I cannot say, Urahara-san. This is beyond my knowledge. Although I have read the reports of previous cases, there is no advice for me to give. I am very hesitant to prescribe anything; even a simple anesthetic or pain reducer. Combined with the poison, even the simplest of drugs could result in a catastrophe. We could cause him more pain with the smallest of miscalculations. I believe that it is best to wait this out; let Kurosaki-san progress as his body intends. However, I suggest that you and I keep close on hand, in case any problems should arise."

She then stood and glided over to where the shopkeeper, Shiohin princess, shop attendant and ex-shinigami-turned-doctor were standing.

On a nameless, darkened street in Karakura, a vigil was being kept. It consisted of Rukia, Renji, Isshin, Urahara, Yourichi, Tessai, Unohana, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Matsumoto, and Hitsuguya. The eleven sat in silence, occasionally glancing out the window, but for the most part, staring at the boy in the corner of the room.

It seemed that the poison had finally reached its peak. The sufferer was curled into a ball at the top of the bed. His head was still in Rukia's lap and his hands still clutched at her shihakusho. His knees were drawn to his chest and every muscle in his body was taut. The air was heavy as they watched to boy fight. In any normal circumstance, there would be laughter and crude jokes, talking about how Ichigo was being a baby and couldn't handle a little pain; or how he needed to grow a pair and man up. There was nothing humorous about the present situation; everyone just wanted it over.

It was now 5: 27 am; forty-one minutes until sunrise. Forty-one minutes until Ishida, Tatsuki, Inoue, Chad, Yuzu and Karin came looking for Ichigo's soul. Forty-one more minutes of agony.

5:58. Ten minutes. No progress. Ichigo was still locked in between life and death.

6:02. Six minutes. The tremors ripping and tearing through his body had gotten worse. Everything from his slender toes to his white teeth were convulsing in involuntary spasms. His eyes were clenched tighter and his hands were beginning to tear through the fabric that he was holding so tight.

6:07. One minute. His breathing had become labored and rough. It sounded like he was trying so desperately to draw oxygen into his body but his lungs would not let him. His own body was fighting his will to live. The room had gone still. All leaned toward the boy as he struggled to breathe. Rukia watched from above, a wide-eyed and pale guardian. The neon clock hit 6:08. The sun broke over the low buildings that lined the horizon. A single tear fell from Rukia's face. The boy exhaled, and did not breathe in again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note I**: Hey guys! I know, I know, I haven't updated in a while. I am so sorry. I will never understand why teachers insist upon giving us students a shitload of work in the last two weeks of school on top of massive finals that they expect us to not only study for, but ace. Damn them. Well, at least it's over. You know what that means? Yup. Consistent (hopefully) updates. Again I am sorry that I kept you all waiting so long. And thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Just so you know I do read and carefully consider ALL of the reviews (so that means your lovely voices and comments are not going unnoticed) and they really help out. I hope you enjoy this next chapter…

**Note II**: I think I should warn you…Isshin is a little weird in this. I absolutely hate how Isshin acts toward Ichigo in the manga (read my profile) so this is kinda how I think a father would (or should) react to the painful, drawn-out death of their child. In the manga (here I go…), Isshin is watching Ichigo feel his way around in the dark. He repeatedly sees Ichigo fall, get hurt, get beaten, get tortured (mentally by his hollow), lose control, freak out, and basically lose every inch of sanity. AND ALL HE DOES IS WATCH. Ichigo is fifteen years old (actually in this story, he is seventeen but whatever). I don't know how parent-child relationships work in Japan but I hope and pray to every deity that they are typically more caring than the one that Ichigo and his father have. Anyway, Ichigo is fifteen. HE IS A CHILD. Yeah, he's a damn strong child but that doesn't mean anything. We (the loyal reader) watch him struggle to control his hollow and then, we cheer with him when he finally does. When he goes all Resureccion (definitely spelt that wrong…) on Ulquiorra's ass, we cry with him. Then, Ichigo comes back to fake-Karakura to take on Aizen and he is freaking-the-fuck-out because he almost killed Inoue and Ishida and everyone else and all Isshin can say is "suck it up". Was I the only one who screamed? Out loud? And then stormed away from the computer? "Suck it up"? Seriously? "SUCK IT UP!" What…what…what...ISSHIN YOU **************

*********************************************** . IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY TO YOUR SON WHO JUST CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD AND ALMOST MURDERED HIS FRIENDS? WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM YOU ***********************************. AAAAHHHHHH! **YOU IRRITATE ME SO**. HOW **DARE** YOU TALK TO THE BOY WHO IS GONNA SAVE YOUR FUCKING SS LIKE THAT! DON'T TELL HIM (THE KID WHO HAS JUST HAD EVERYTHING HE KNOWS AND TRUSTS RIPPED AWAY FROM HIM) TO STOP CRYING AND SUCK IT UP! **YOU ARE GONNA DAMN WELL LET HIM CRY AND YOU ARE GOING TO SIT YOUR ASS DOWN NEXT TO HIM AND COMFORT** _**YOUR CHILD**_**!** Hehhh…(insert angry noise here)Ok. I'm all worn out now. Sorry guys. I just...I…oh he irks me… Oh, and before you make assumptions, I am all for kicking Ichigo in the pants once in a while when he needs it but only Rukia has that right. Only Rukia.

**Note III**: I am really not as crazy as the above rant makes me seem. Ok, that's a lie. I am. Do they give out certificates for that? Cuz I want one…

A collective sigh went out as the boy died. It was finally over. Rukia looked down at the lifeless body in her lap and tried in vain to find some semblance of the shinigami-daiko. True the hair was still obnoxiously orange and the body was as long and lanky as ever, even the scowl was there, but it wasn't Ichigo. This was just a stupid, useless puppet. _Of course it's useless, idiot. It's dead. Geez Rukia…_Rukia chastised herself for thinking that the human shell in her lap was her friend. Then, she snapped back to reality.

"Split up and find him. His soul shouldn't be far."

She was tired and cared not for formalities or manners. Her friend's spirit was currently being relocated, particle by particle, to some god-forsaken place. And, knowing Ichigo, that place was probably the most dangerous, hollow-filled, hell-hole in Karakura. If it meant finding him before the hollows did, Rukia would order around the Captain-Commander himself. However, no one contested her; they just obeyed. Even Hitsuguya straightened up and heeded the command. Isshin, however, remained still, his eyes locked on the body of his son. Urahara placed a gentle hand on the man's shoulder.

"Let's go find him. Tessai will take care of the rest. Don't forget, Kurosaki-san, that you still have a son."

Isshin nodded and left the room.

After an hour of searching with no results, Hitsuguya's soul-pager beeped. He pulled it out from inside his shihakusho.

"Hollow. Ten blocks. The park. It's a big one."

He and Ikkaku flash-stepped the distance in the blink of an eye; however, when they reached the park it was calm. Rukia and Yourichi stood in the center, waiting. The two men converged on the women and the captain said,

"Did you get it?"

A yellow gaze caught his eye.

"No. It hasn't come yet."

Suddenly, a familiar voice choked out a cry. One orange-haired, recently dead teenager, clad in pure white, tripped over a low concrete wall and sprawled out on the wood-chip covered ground. He sprung up, angrily muttering, but stopped when he saw his company. Wearing a white outfit similar to a Quincy's, a bewildered expression, and wood chips made him look rather ridiculous.

The boy looked around, a slight smile on his face, before remembering his current situation. With a curse, he sprang forward, twisting in the air so he faced the direction he came from, and landed in a crouch. His hands clenched and unclenched, not sure what to do without a zanpakuto. Copying Ichigo, the others sunk into fighting stances and readied themselves. Just then, a tremendous roar echoed throughout the town and a Gillian stepped forth from among the buildings. Ichigo almost charged his opponent but stopped himself when he realized that he had no way to fight it.

"A little help, guys? I'm short a weapon."

Ichigo raised his hands in a half-hearted apology.

"What, Ichigo," Ikkaku drawled, "too weak to handle one little Gillian on your own? I think you're losing your touch." He laughed and Ichigo scowled.

"Well if you think you can do it without your zanpakuto, then be my guest, cueball. Hand it over and let's see how well you do."

Ikkaku growled and began to say something but was cut off by the glare that was burning a hole in his back. He turned to face a very pissed-off Hitsuguya.

"Arguing like two incompetent morons will do nothing to help us. I suggest you come up with a better plan, Madarame."

"That's not necessary. It's already taken care of."

The flash-goddess strut forward as the Gillian fell to ruin some twenty yards behind her. A cloud of yellow-gray dust plumed upward against the rising sun.

It was a little after 7 when everyone met back up at the Kurosaki household after having been paged by Hitsuguya. The groups filed in, relieved that the ordeal was over. A look that could be described as content graced all of their faces but they all harbored a few dark thoughts. None of them were mentioned, however.

A small crowd gathered in the living room of the Kurosaki household; it was bigger and arguably more comfortable than Ichigo's bedroom. Everyone took their seats and Urahara was the first to speak.

"Alright everyone, it seems we made it through with minimal headaches."

Rukia and Ichigo glare daggers at the cheerful madman and Urahara had the good sense to look somewhat chastised.

"Yes, continuing on. The easy part is over. Now we have to get through Soul Society."

Urahara looked carefully at the young Kurosaki to make sure that he was paying attention.

"Yes, Kurosaki-san, the easy part. Now, as I was saying, we must get through Soul Society. Not an easy task but much easier than the last time around, ne? Yare, yare, I see none of you are in the mood for jokes. Ah well…First! We must contact the Soutai-"

"Already done, sir."

Tessai walked into the room as quietly and nimbly as a man his size could manage. Which considering this abundance of mass, was very impressive. Urahara looked up at the man with enlarged eyes. He looked as if he thought the giant was going to eat him.

"I contacted Soul Society and informed them of everything. The Soutaicho ordered that Kurosaki accompany Kuchiki-sama to the Kuchiki Estate. That is all I know. I also moved and wrapped Kurosaki-san's body. It is back at the shop. I am not sure what has been planned for it."

No one had ever heard the large man speak so much. The effect was something similar to complete shock. Being the first to recover, Urahara spoke first.

"Very good, Tessai. As always, your work is superb. Thank you."

Turning to the others he said,

"Alright, I guess the hard part is done. You, Kurosaki-san, just have to hop over to Soul Society and you're ready to go."

The room was quiet and still. Bright sunlight filtered through the blinds and gave the space a soft glow. No one spoke for a long while.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the figures stirred. One by one they stood and Hitsuguya tiredly called a Senkaimon gate. After a few goodbyes, the troop staggered their way into the gate, leaving.

Soon, only Isshin, Rukia, and Ichigo were left and the trio stood in an awkward silence. Rukia shuffled her feet and Isshin cleared his throat. Ichigo stood like a statue.

"Well," Rukia said, "I guess we had better go."

She looked up at Ichigo and tried to catch his eye. After more than a moment of staring blankly ahead, the boy looked down and smiled softly. The movement struck her for she had rarely seen him smile and had never seen him do anything softly. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to his father.

"Thanks, dad."

"Welcome, son. And, I'm sorry."

The orange haired youth merely nodded his head. He shifted around to look at Rukia once more.

"Come on, Ichigo. It's time to go home."

A/N: Hmmm...not too happy with this one. It's kind of boring but it was necessary. The next chapter will be better. I promise. Until then...


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, I wouldn't be writing this. And Ichigo would have never lost his powers. Just saying…

Rukia stood in front of the Senkaimon Gate. Her slender body was a black silhouette against the blinding light that spilt forth from the portal.

She reached out her hand…

….

…and Ichigo took it.

He laughed softly at the small hand that tugged him into the light with a disproportionate strength. Laughing was easier now, he noticed. Somehow, he felt better, lighter. Not that he was completely leaving his old life behind, but something stirred within Ichigo that gave him a new conviction. He was turning over a new leaf. This life, he decided, would be worth something and he wouldn't wallow in the guilt that he had drenched his human life in.

The boy and the shinigami strolled as lazily as one could stroll through the Senkaimon Gate. In reality, that meant running as fast as they could. The gate hissed open and the pair tumbled out into the center of a courtyard in the Kuchiki Manor. The late morning sun was bright and it shone through the cherry blossom trees that embraced the square.

"Nii-sama is already at the barracks." She said.

A black hell butterfly drifted through the courtyard and landed on Rukia's outstretched finger. A voice only she could hear relayed a message. The butterfly swept away as gracefully as it had arrived.

Then, almost lethargically, Rukia turned to Ichigo and said, "Come on, I have to bring you to the Soutaicho."

Ichigo looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You remember what Tessai said. Your…ummm…future is to be decided."

Rukia looked at him with a guilty expression and he stopped them both with a short tug on her hand. The two now stood on some rooftop in the Kuchiki compound.

"Wait, why do you look so nervous?"

"Uh-humm," She laughed nervously," The Soutaicho and the rest of the captains have to decide what to do with you. Whether you like it or not, you are considered a threat and the Gotei 13 very well can't have you running around Sereiti as you please. There has been a lot of speculation about your future lately."

Now she looked smug.

"I get that, Rukia. But I thought that I was going to the academy or something."

In the distance, the metallic clash of swords could be heard.

"Well, yes. You are going to the academy but they are talking about _after_ the academy. What squad will you be in? What seat will you be? Will you have to work for that seat or will you just be placed there? Will you even get a seat or will you just be made captain?..."

When Rukia caught Ichigo's eye, he was staring at her. He knew the Soul Society was anal, especially after the Aizen fiasco, but this? Why were they planning so far in advance? He would be at the academy for seven _years_, dammit. Probably even longer if his kidou was really as atrocious as everyone predicted it to be. Maybe living for hundreds of years blurred the shinigami's understanding of time but still, seven whole years. That's more than enough time to decide the fate of one being. Hell, they decided to execute one of their own in little under a day. What made this any different? Ichigo decided to voice his comment.

"I'm gonna be at the academy for seven years, Rukia. Why the hell can't they take a break and worry about me after? I think rebuilding the morale of the people is a little more important than my future."

Rukia let out an exasperated sigh. She looked at Ichigo like he was a child making a special effort to annoy her.

"Some shinigami are under the opinion that you won't be at the academy for seven years."

He looked up, surprised. She continued.

"In fact, I don't think anyone believes that you will be there for seven years. Your rate of growth is so incredible that they don't know what to think. Some say five years, others six months. There are several pools, too. I think Ikkaku and Matsumoto started them…anyway, the Soutaicho is just preparing for the extreme. Remember, you are already a master at Zanjutsu and Shunpo. Your hand-to-hand could use a little polishing but it looks good otherwise. The only things you'd need to learn are Kidou and Soul Society history. And, if you really tried, you could probably pick those up really fast. Unless you're like Renji. That's possible. Hah, the great Kurosaki Ichigo, savior of the Soul Society and an atrocity at Kido…"

She trailed off in laughter.

"Funny, Rukia. Really funny. Wait, they seriously think that I might go through the academy in less than seven years? Alright, I guess that makes sense. I did learn bankai in three days…"

As they conversed, the sun rose higher in the cloudless expanse of blue sky.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, step forward."

The Soutaicho's voice rumbled throughout the hall. Like the man it belonged to, the voice filled the space with power and authority. The remaining captains lined the walls of the chamber with stoic faces. Only the barest hint of a smile could be seen on the usually jovial Kyoraku.

Ichigo stood before the ancient commander looking as meek as anyone had ever seen him. His calm, emotionless face was slightly shrouded by his vibrant hair but the effect made him look younger, somehow.

"Kurosaki, I assume that Kuchiki Rukia informed you of our plans? Yes? Well, do you have any questions boy?"

"Just one, sir. What will I be doing after the academy? Rukia wasn't sure about that…"

Yamamoto eyed Ichigo like he was a bug. The youth had enough sense to look humble and sincere.

"You will join the ranks as a seated officer. Then, under the guidance of your captain, you will be prepared for a higher position." Then, almost as an afterthought, the captain added, "and you will then be trained to take over my place…"

Ichigo winced slightly at the Captain-Commander's words but remained silent. Yamamoto looked up and regarded the whole room.

"It is settled, then. Kurosaki Ichigo will begin his schooling at the Shinigami Academy tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep tonight, Kurosaki. The courses are a little more rigorous than human schooling."

The Captain-Commander sat down heavily in his chair and the meeting was adjourned. Life for Ichigo would begin tomorrow at 7am.

A/N I: Yeah, yeah, I know. The ending sucks. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, writing the Soutaicho. He annoys me.

A/N II: Please, please review. I am being very nice and taking a break from my summer to write this for you so throw me a bone and review. Actually, throw me a cookie 'cause I don't like bones…


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I don't own Bleach. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this.

Ichigo strolled into the Shinigami Academy campus. He glanced around at the walls of the large courtyard. Everything was open and airy, reminiscent of the Kuchiki estate, but without the air of exorbitant wealth. Turning his gaze to the people in the courtyard, Ichigo realized that they were all staring at him. _Great_, he thought, _they know who I am. This isn't gonna end well_. One of the braver 6th years sauntered up to the orange-haired shinigami-to-be and looked him straight in the eye. Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"You think you're so hot with your hair and your uniform, well let me tell you something kid, we can beat you till you cry so don't look so proud. You're a first year and everyone knows that first years are shit."

This is not what Ichigo expected. However, years of being teased and bullied for his hair left him immune to such comments. He rolled his eyes and continued walking.

"Hey! Asshole! Get back here! I'm not finished with you!"

It was about 10:30 and even though the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and a nice, cool breeze was blowing, Ichigo could feel a terrible day beginning. He most certainly did NOT want to be here with a bunch of slack-jawed idiots who couldn't swing a katana properly. He especially didn't want to be in a class with a bunch of first-years. The headmaster had spoken to him earlier that morning about various activities at the academy and ways he could "connect with other students' and "make new friends". None of them held any interest for Ichigo. All he wanted to do was to join the Gotei 13 and fight alongside Rukia and the rest of their friends. But the damn Soutaicho had made him go to this school because he needed to learn how to be a "proper" shinigami.

_Fuck that. You didn't need me to be "proper" when I was fighting YOUR war FOR YOU. Assholes._

Right now, Ichigo really wanted to be with Rukia or sparring with Renji and Ikkaku. He didn't need to learn how to use Zangetsu, he could already fight hand to hand, he _had_ fought in many battles and he was probably stronger than the all of the academy students combined. Yeah, he could use some Kidou knowledge and spiritual pressure control but that could easily be taught by Rukia or Ukitake or Hinamori or anyone else who was willing. _Hnnn._ The bell, which sounded more like wind chimes rather than a school bell, rang throughout the campus. _Fuck. Gotta go to class. _Sighing, Ichigo glanced around the hallway that he had wandered into and looked for a sign that would tell him where he was. Hopefully he wouldn't find one. To his utmost disdain and disbelief, his eye caught a small white plaque that read 113-B: his first class.

Ichigo slipped inside quietly and was met by four dozen pairs of wide, frightened eyes. The owners of said eyes were all first years and they sat cross-legged and nervous while they waited for their teacher to arrive. The fact that there was no teacher seriously disturbed some of the students seeing as they incessantly twiddled their thumbs as their eyes flitted nervously from the door to the windows to Ichigo and back. With an annoyed and impatient huff, Ichigo sat down in the back of the classroom. He found that after the initial shock of his hair this morning, most of the students had grown impartial to it and they went about their business. Still, there were some who continued to stare and mock him behind his back. Several of them appeared to be in this class because as soon as he sat down, whispers floated in the tense air. Years of practice allowed Ichigo to brush these immature comments aside. Then, the door flung open to reveal a rather frazzled looking woman. She appeared to be middle-aged, with graying, frizzy hair and skewed spectacles on the bridge of her nose. Books and papers were slipping out of her arms and short breaths burst unevenly from her lips. She looked at her students like they were sentencing her to death. She obviously was not happy with her current career choice.

"Alright class, take your um…seats. Wait. You're already sitting…oh."

Her voice was grainy and awkward, much like the rest of her. She looked around the room and sighed, then stumbled to her desk at the front of the classroom. After setting her pile of books down, she turned to face the class and swallowed hard three times before she started speaking again.

"Umm…good morning. I hope you are having a good first day. My uhh…my name is Ehime-sensei. I will be your umm…Kidou instructor. I-I know that you are all first years and I want to tell you that it is okay if you don't understand this at first. Kidou is a dif-difficult concept to grasp and many beginners have trouble with it. You will get better with t-time."

The class stared blankly at her._ It's just like school in the World of the Living. Teachers talk and students block them out._ Ichigo smirked a little and shifted his gaze to the window. Soon he was lost in thought.

"A-Alright class! Let's all g-go outside for your first Kidou lesson!" Ehime-Sensei opened a panel in the wall to reveal a large training area. It was about an acre large with a line of targets standing 20m away from the curious students. The grass beneath the targets was burned away yet the markers stood untouched. Several gasps could be heard among the throng of students. Ichigo just looked bored.

"Everyone l-line up with a target and try the chant I gave you. Really focus your r-reaitsu and t-t-try for some control."

_Chant? What chant? _Ichigo looked around at the mass of students. They each had positioned themselves in front of a target and were obviously struggling with their current task. A brunette boy next to him muttered something unintelligible and frowned deeply. He then cried out, "Shakka-hou!" Nothing happened. His face fell into disappointment then turned to relief when he saw that no one else had succeeded_. _All around them, students contorted their faces in concentration in a desperate effort to cast this spell. Some of the ones with more reaitsu managed to create a small sphere of reddish energy which then proceeded to explode in their faces. One was even thrown backwards. The shinigami-to-be tried and failed miserably to succeed. _So a red-flame cannon, huh? Alright. I'll try it. Screw the chant. _Ichigo squared himself off with his target and raised an open hand to it. Solemnly, he stated,

"Shakka-hou."

The orange-haired man felt a hot power gather in the center of his palm and watched as a small red light appeared. There was a moment where it felt like time itself stood still and then all of that energy spilt forth and consumed the training arena in a wave of red power.

"I am moving you up to a level three course. Maybe they can control you." The Headmaster wrote out a pass for Ichigo and sent him to the secretary who handed him a new schedule.

"Go on, Kurosaki."

Ichigo stepped out into the hallway and turned left toward the third-year classes. As he walked, he read his new schedule; Zanjutsu 3, Shunpo 3, Kidou 3, History of the Soul Society 3, the list went on. After about ten minutes of walking, he reached his first class. Once again, he entered silently and tried to slip past unnoticed. However, being a strawberry-blonde _and_ a first-year in a third-year class hardly let him be invisible. Everyone, even the teacher, stared. Sensei was a mean looking man with ropes of muscle and closely cropped black hair. He resembled Tetsuzaemon Iba with his strong face and thick neck.

"And you are?"

Ichigo walked up to him and handed over the pass. The instructor read it over and grunted,

"Well alright. Just don't expect to be treated any different."

Ichigo smirked.

"Alright, you've sat on your asses long enough. Time to make you feel the pain."

There was a collective groan as the wall panel opened. The third years plus Ichigo filed out into another large training area. It was almost identical to the first, save for a raised wooden platform. There were also no targets. The Iba-look-a-like cut his way through the crowd and sprung up onto the platform. He spoke loudly.

"I want two volunteers. Come on, quickly now! I don't have all day to waste with you. If you are gonna be scared little bitches then go back to basic Zanjutsu."

A bold third-year with a deep set face and a solid body stepped forward. His small, dark eyes glinted with a malicious thirst for blood. This must have been what Kenpachi looked like before he joined the Gotei 13.

"Watanabe, good. A second volunteer? Anyone? No? Heh, your funeral. Alright, Watanabe, pick your opponent."

Watanabe grinned and locked eyes with Ichigo.

"I want sunshine over there. Gotta teach the new blood who's boss."

The instructor rolled his eyes and made a motion to the other students to clear a space. The crowd quickly backtracked, giving both Ichigo and Watanabe a wide berth. Sensei spoke.

"Now, I don't care what you two do. Just no bodies. I hate filling out those reports; they make me look bad."

Taking that as an affirmative, Watanabe launched himself forward. He didn't wait for Ichigo to draw his sword or even turn his head. However, much to the surprise of the class, the orange-haired student simply held up a finger. He caught Watanabe's katana in the top joint of his index finger. Looking at the third year beneath a hood of orange hair, Ichigo said quietly,

"Didn't anyone teach you manners?"

In response, the third year pulled his sword away and swung it again in a massive arc at Ichigo's neck. With a sigh, Ichigo flash-stepped to the side and caught both of Watanabe's arms behind his back. He then held him like that and looked at the teacher.

"Do you have anyone who is actually serious about fighting? Or is everyone here an idiot who likes to swing a katana."

Sensei looked at his new student murderously. He wasn't going to sit here and let this bastard tell him that he wasn't doing his job.

"Yeah, there is." The instructor drew his katana. "Me."

A/N: Awww shit. What's Ichigo gonna do? I don't know… (well I do but that's not the point) Mwahaha. Just gonna have to read and find out. Well, you actually probably already know the outcome 'cause the Sensei isn't the brightest of lightbulbs and well, Ichigo did beat Aizen (AKA, the Big Bad, The Terminator: Bleach Style, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Lucifer, the Devil, Hell Butterfly of Doom (if you don't get that, see the manga where he has like, four pairs of wings. He is a total, creepy-ass butterfly.), Mr. I'm-Too-Evil-To-Wear-Pants (I think he is in a skirt at one point…) and the list goes on). Well, I am gonna make it interesting…


	9. Chapter 9

The teacher squared off against Ichigo and held his katana aloft.

"You got some skill but I don't like your attitude. No one tells my best student how to act and no one tells me that I ain't doing my job right. Who do you think you are boy?"

To Ichigo, it was like facing off Kenpachi without the ridiculous amount of power. _Damn. Fighting him and then listening as the Headmaster bitches at me again is really gonna put a damper on my day_. Ichigo drew Zangetsu and held it in front of him.

"Let's make this quick."

Ichigo waited. He held the eyes of the instructor for a long minute. Finally, the tension broke and the instructor dove forward. His attack was a forceful downward chop of his unreleased zanpakuto. Ichigo pulled Zangetsu up to his shoulder and blocked the strike. The students were enthralled. Here was their strong teacher and the new kid battling it out. Some loved the fight itself, other loved the danger, but all were enraptured by the drama. Before long, hooting and shouting broke out in support of either teacher or student. Some just cheered every time the swords clashed.

The teacher was sweating and Ichigo, beneath his determined expression, was bored out of his mind. In actuality, he was talking with Zangetsu

"_This is so boring. He isn't even a challenge."_

_ "Relax, Ichigo. You are not used to fighting someone so far below your own power level. Remember, he is trying very hard. Can't you feel his exertion? Take your time and learn from this experience. While the ultimate goal is to end a fight as quickly as possible, take the opportunity to learn and to experiment. That way, when you fight someone stronger, you will be more confident."_

_ Ichigo sighed and turned away._

_ "I forget sometimes…"_

_ "That is why I am here; to remind you. Now, pay attention and end this fight. The children have had their amusement for the day. Go, Ichigo."_

_ Zangetsu watched as his soul-partner faded away and then looked up to the clear blue sky._

Ichigo came back to himself and was almost a little startled to find that he was still fighting. His body had been acting out of instinct and he and Zangetsu had kept dancing all throughout their conversation. The instructor came into full focus and Ichigo saw that he was wearing thin. His breathing was ragged and his shoulders shook. All business now, Ichigo locked blades with the instructor and with a powerful shove, sent him spiraling to the hard dirt. The orange-haired youth sighed heavily and turned his back to the defeated man. Shouts echoed behind him.

"This isn't over! Just you wait! No one walks away from me!"

Ichigo raised his hand over his head in a half-hearted salute and continued walking away.

The day was going rather swell for Ichigo. To start off, he nearly killed everyone in his first-year kidou class, then he made several enemies in the third-year Zanjustu class. He thought that nothing could go wrong in history class but that was just a stupid assumption. The sensei of Ichigo's history class stated that Aizen was still one of the most respected captains and that hollows were nothing more than monsters who deserved to be purified by shinigami. With that, the exasperated shinigami just gave up and stormed out of the classroom, disregarding the angry shouts of the teacher. He marched himself straight to the headmaster's office and barged right past the secretary.

"What the hell is going on here! Why doesn't anyone know about Aizen's betrayal or about the Espada or the entire-Winter-fucking-War? I though this was a frickin' _learning_ institution! I'm not too sure of that anymore because everyone in this goddamned-hellhole is fucking clueless! Is that what you want?"

Ichigo finished his tirade and came eye to eye with the almost amused headmaster.

"Why, yes, Kurosaki-san, it is. Here at the Academy, a mind unfilled by gossip and fairytales is much easier to teach and impress upon. If we keep the students cut off from the world, they can learn quite a bit in an untainted atmosphere. It keeps them focused on their studies and on becoming the best shinigami they can be. If their heads are filled with legends and stories, they will spend their days dreaming rather than training and studying. This is all done to further the betterment of Sereiti. Intelligent, competent, _grounded_ shinigami will do many great things for the place we call home."

Ichigo stared dumbly at the headmaster and mouthed the words, "fairytale," and "betterment of Sereiti". Then, he sunk heavily into the chair that sat just to his left. The headmaster simply smiled.

"I take it you were not informed of this, yes? Well, it is for the best. Go on now. I believe you have classes to attend."

A/N: Wow. First update in how long? Oops. Sorry. I will try to get better, I promise. You wanna know what will help? A review…go on, I know you can do it…just click it…do it…do it now…


	10. Chapter 10

**Note I:** So, I never formally apologized for the massive (and unexpected) hiatus I took over the past few months. Believe me, I didn't expect it either. I would just like to say that I am sorry and that I didn't forget about all of you. I can't promise to update (because we all know how that worked out) but I can tell you that I will try my hardest. I would ask you to cut me a little slack because school is a bitch but if I did that, I would get a whole bunch of people (don't worry, I love you anyways) bitching at me about how they balance school and ff. You know my response to that? So what. My schedule is different from yours and yours is different from his so don't tell me that I have enough time to put into fanfiction. Ok, that took up my rant quota of the day so now I am going to shut up and allow you to read in peace.

**Note II**: As always, if I owned Bleach, I wouldn't be on fanfiction. And please review.

Ichigo rolled his eyes for the millionth time in two minutes and tried not to put someone through a wall. The morons around him were still trying to egg him into a fight. The "incident," as he now referred to it, happened over three weeks ago and the other student here just wouldn't let him live it down.

"Fuuuuu-ck." Ichigo sighed to himself as he strolled lazily down the corridor, yet again dreading his next class. He always liked school in the World of the Living and it really was a shame that a bunch of wannabe-shinigamis ruined his very first experience with daily life in Soul Society. He was supposed to be having a _good_ time…

Upon approaching the classroom door, he peeked inside and was relieved to find just two others sitting in their respective seats. After spending the last three weeks studying with fourth years, he realized that not everyone was an asshole and most just didn't want anything to do with him. This was due in part to the fourth-year ego that kept them from touching or communicating with anyone below them unless necessary and also to the fact that rumors about the orange-haired maniac had spread quite rapidly through the surprisingly small school. Most of the other students in his history class were nerds who could barely tolerate their zanpakutos out of fear, much less angry Hollows or even worse, espada. And to top it off, Ichigo's unnatural hair and constant scowl immediately sent a thrill of fear through the more cowardly students. They figured because his appearance was so uninviting, he must be angry at the world and therefore a bloodthirsty monster. They were half right. He was angry, but not for the reasons they thought. As for the bloodthirsty part well, his hollow could answer that one. Speaking of the not-so-little devil, his hollow reared its masked head somewhere inside his soul.

"Let me play, king." The voice rasped inside his head.

"Fuck off."

"Aww…no fun. I always give you what you want…" A black sneer split the bleached face.

"I said no. And if you really gave me what I wanted then you wouldn't be here now."

"So mean to me. What have I ever done to you? I am just the poor, oppressed part of your soul that just wants to help you." The hollows gravel voice took on a honeyed coating and the sound grated and shattered its way through Ichigo's mind. He closed his eyes and saw the white mask. Crimson bled its way down through the yellow and black eyes, slipping into a bloody river at the chin and continuing down the throat.

Ichigo grimaced. For weeks after Aizen's defeat, his hollow spoke not a word. He almost let Ichigo forget that he even existed. Then, out of nowhere, that raspy voice rose up like bile and the orange-haired savior's mind was clouded and tortured once more. This time, though, was different. When the substitute lost control of his hollow in Hueco Mundo, the raw, driving instinct to protect was the only thing that stilled his blade before it cut through Ishida and Inoue's throats. For that one, brief fight, Ichigo and his hollow were in accordance; protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Now, his hollow was a fire of unadulterated anger and hatred; and all the rage was directed at Ichigo. It threw itself against the walls of his soul-prison and shrieked and moaned to its captor. The constant cries and wails left Ichigo irritable. Not that he was usually peaceful and happy, but all of the energy that went into suppressing the beast took all but a drop of the shinigami-daiko's patience away.

Ichigo looked around and saw that the room was almost full._ I guess conversations with myself really take up a lot of _tim_e. _The few lagging students filed in, took their seats, and fell asleep. An orange head turned and glanced quickly about the room, noting all the unconscious classmates. With the slightest shrug, Ichigo too gave up on history class and went to sleep. It's not like he learned anything there anyway…

Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, Ichigo turned into a large training area. It was a special class that the headmaster had formed just for him; meaning, Ichigo was the only student and the instructor wore a fully armored body suit.

"Alright Kurosaki-san, let's try for a little more control today, eh?"

The sensei was an older man with steel-colored hair and weathered cheeks. He was not physically strong but the age that had wizened his face had also sharpened his mind. Sensei loved to banter with his student and Ichigo felt something like a bond forming. There were days that saw hours spent between the two just talking. Other times they played chess while drinking tea. Today though, was one of the days Ichigo loved: Kidou practice. The orange-haired man found that with a little encouragement, he actually could master that which seemed even more impossible than Bankai. Also, Sensei's fist was fast as a whip and he didn't hesitate to beat it against Ichigo's head.

"Sensei, am I ever not under control?" Ichigo smirked. So did Sensei.

"Ichigo-san, the only time you are ever under control is when your ass is being handed to you. I think the first time anyone saw you so subdued was when you re-appeared out of nowhere in Karakura to face down Aizen. Even then you weren't in control; Aizen just masked everything." The headmaster felt that it was necessary for Sensei to know about Ichigo's role in the Winter War and, surprising to Ichigo, Sensei still looked at him with the same, kind eyes. It was as if Ichigo was just another student.

Ichigo laughed and swung Zangetsu off his back. He laid the zanpakuto down under the shade of a cherry tree and walked back over to his place.

"Alright kiddo, let's try that nasty little binding spell without the chant today. Remember your breathing and forms. Just relax and go slow."

Ichigo sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders. He felt the heavy weight of Sensei's confidence in him on his shoulders and, like every student and mentor, he did not want to disappoint. Stretching his hands out in front of him, the young shinigami concentrated on the words dancing behind his eyes and tried with all of his might to control the wave of power surging up through his chest.

The power warmed his fingertips and his lips opened to shape the name of the spell. At the same time, the blackened portion of his soul arose from its afternoon nap.

The incantation died on Ichigo's tongue and the energy he had been holding in in hands was quickly sheathed. He felt his knees buckle and saw the ground sway. Crumpling to a sitting position, Ichigo sat with his head in his hands and clenched his teeth, trying to force the creature back down. Then, there was a hand on his shoulder.

Yellow eyes looked up at a stone-faced man and the staring contest felt like it went on forever. The firm grip never left the boy's shoulder as he tried to regain some piece of himself. Finally, Ichigo felt some control slip back into his mind as his hollow decided that it really wasn't up for a fight right now. It would much rather sleep and dream of his Queen. After a long moment, Ichigo's eyes returned to their normal amber and he slumped sideways, leaning back on his hands and panting. The restraining grip turned into a comforting hand as Sensei sunk down next to his student. Pulling off the guard mask and gloves, Sensei caught Ichigo's eye and held it for a long minute. Neither spoke, they just let the silence heal the almost-wounds.

With his breath finally caught, Ichigo's eyes filled with shame and he looked away. Sensei was also aware of this particular aspect of his student's personality and tried his best to understand the struggles Ichigo faced. He let the boy sit in his own mind for quite some time. Then, as if nothing happened, Sensei pulled the boy up by his elbow and all but tossed him back into his original place. Then, retrieving the mask and gloves, the instructor yanked them on and faced his student. Turning to the boy, he raised his hand in the universal "come on" signal and prepared himself for impact.

"Again, boy."

A/N: So what did you think of this one? I actually kind of liked it. I really want the hollow to be a driving force in this story so I am trying my best to incorporate him an a way that flows with the rest of the story. As usual, please, please review.


	11. Chapter 11

Note I; Wow guys, I am doing pretty good. How many chapters is this? Three in a row so far? You should be proud.

Soul Society didn't have Christmas, or Chanukah, or Kwanza or any other major holiday. Considering there was no religion in Soul Society, there were thus no religious holidays. However, the Academy gave its students a two-week holiday period for them to do with what they would. Most went back to their families or stayed with shinigami friends. Kurosaki Ichigo was looking forward to the blissful two weeks that he would have alone, to himself in his dormitory room. He originally thought about going to see Yuzu and Karin but that would entail lots of nasty paperwork that should have been filed two months ago. The young shinigami was considering sneaking out anyway. He could have gone to stay with Rukia but that would mean sleeping in the same house as Kuchiki Byakuya. Said man would most likely castrate him in his sleep. Shuddering out of fear for his...parts, Ichigo moved to the next possibility. He didn't want to risk staying with Renji for fear that he wouldn't sleep at all. If Renji was thrown into the mix, also would Ikkaku, Yumichika, Hisagi and Matsumoto (at the very least). With that particular group came wild, sleepless nights, unintentional sex, and lots and lots of sake. Ichigo had other things on his mind than a raging social life. And besides, a drunk Ichigo meant a drunk hollow and who knows where that would go? So as it was, the Shinigami Academy had two weeks off in the middle of January for students to spend at their leisure.

Walking back from his last class, finally released from his academic duties for two glorious weeks, Ichigo slid open his dormitory room door and walked inside. Like every other bedroom in the school, there was a twin bed, a desk, a window, a few shelves on the wall for books and a closet. Everything was neat and clean simply because Ichigo only found time to sleep here. All of his work was done outside either under a shady tree or in the library. He was occasionally accompanied by an acquaintance or two but he generally kept to himself. Only Sensei could be called his friend.

Slumping onto the low bed, the shinigami rolled onto his back and stared out the window up at the bright moon. Memories whirled around in his mind and battered the backs of his eyes. _It's only been two years._ With an uncharacteristic sigh escaping his lips, amber eyes turned to the bleached walls of the cell. He laughed to himself as he remembered Rukia stepping through his bedroom wall two years prior, changing his life in more ways than previously thought possible. His traitorous heart wished for it to happen again. Once again, amber gazed upwards to the sky and the boy slipped into his mind.

Only the slight prickle on the back of his neck informed Ichigo of the new presence. So not to show any awareness, he laid still and pretended to be lost in his reverie. There was a thump on his desk. Quickly, he glanced over and saw, much to his surprise, the familiar shape of Rukia gliding out of his wall. She pulled out completely and stood to her full, proud height of four feet, eleven inches.

"Should I say, "It is near." or can you just believe that I am here without kicking me in the backside?" A slow smile pulled her full lips upwards, revealing a sliver of pearly teeth. She was in her shihakusho and Sode no Shirayuki was belted to her slender waist but she looked completely at ease. Hopping down from Ichigo's desk, she walked over and sat on his knees.

Ichigo, who at this point had been watching her with quiet observation, finally allowed a smirk to cross his face.

"Nah half-pint, I think my knees feel it just fine. No need for us to get violent."

"Who are you and what have you done with Ichigo?" Rukia deadpanned but her eyes still held fire.

"What? I thought I was supposed to learn restraint at this fuckin' place."

"You were. They weren't supposed to brainwash you though."

Rukia made herself comfortable on his tired joints and grinned down at him. It was a smile full of mischief and secrets, as was usually the case with Rukia's smiles. Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"You know, you could get me in a lot of trouble with a lot of people if they catch you here, especially in my dorm room."

"Me? Get Kurosaki-kun in trouble? Never would _I_ do such a thing." She emulated a schoolgirl form the World of the Living and Ichigo wanted to duct tape her mouth shut. She laughed at his scowl.

"So how have you been, Ichigo? I haven't seen you in what, two months? The last time was that "Students Day" that the Gotei 13 held. _That_ was fun." She laughed again at the memory.

Sometime in the middle of November, the Academy students spend one day gallivanting throughout Sereiti. The idea is for them to get to know potential superiors and their ways around but it always ends up in a party followed by a hung-over, tear-stained rest of the week. This year was a little different, though.

**Flashback**

"Kurosaki-san! Wait!"

Ichigo turned around slowly and saw two other shinigamis-to-be approaching. One was a lanky, blue-eyed youth while the other, though not as tall, had a little more muscle and a little more age. The tall one reminded him of Keigo; the short one, of a bizarre combination of an older Tatsuki and Ishida. Ichigo had several classes with both of them and an almost friendship formed from that.

"Matte…Kurosa-…" The tall one, Riku, stopped several feet in front of Ichigo and dramatically hunched over, gripping his knees, in an attempt to catch his breath. As fast as he was, Riku's endurance was minimal. Kenta, the shorter stockier one, huffed and puffed his way over to the pair. By the time he reached his destination, Ichigo boredom had gone from strong to stronger and Riku was trying to pretend he didn't almost have an asthma attack.

"Kurosaki-san, where are you headed today?" Kenta's voice rumbled out of his barrel chest. He wheezed slightly but had composed himself much more gracefully than Riku. It was odd to see the pair together; they were complete opposites yet closer than twins.

"Yeah, Kurosaki-san! Where? Are you meeting anyone _special_…?" Riku was just as excitable as Keigo and just a girl-obsessed. Ichigo rolled his eyes. He didn't mind spending time with the two but found it was often tiring. Seeing them at school was enough for him to get his fill. When they spent hours following him around when he was trying to study made him contemplate homicide.

Ichigo was explicitly told (and threatened) to keep Sensei's classes out of the public eye. If other students saw him getting private lessons, questions would arise, curiosities would be peaked and the headmaster would have a situation on his hands. So, in order to avoid being reprimanded (again), Ichigo often had to circle around and double back on his own flash steps just to lose track of his followers. He would then have to shunpo across campus to get to his training session. It often resulted in him being late and getting reprimanded anyway.

Ichigo eyed the two carefully. _I can't tell them where I am going because they will follow and I can't not tell them because they will assume the worst_.

"Yeah…I have a…a uh meeting to go to. See ya!" In a flash of orange, Ichigo shunpo-ed off.

"He's hiding something."

"Definitely"

"Follow him?"

"Hell yeah."

Riku and Kenta took off after the boy but considering their flash steps were not nearly as fast as their target's, they soon lost interest and went to go flirt with some girls leaning against a Ramen stand.

"Ichigo, how did your audience with the Soutaicho go?"

Matsumoto, who was only interested in the gossip, leaned in closer to the boy as she, Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Hisagi and Hinamori walked down a rather busy street in Sereiti.

"As good as it could have gone. He basically just read over my report card and told me what I needed to work on. It was like grade school all over again." Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly.

"That can't be all…" Matsumoto prompted.

"It is. Sorry to disappoint."

Sulking briefly before her eyes flashed to a group of first-year students, she grinned and sashayed over to them. Swinging her hips, Matsumoto's lips crooned out a hello and she beckoned the group over. With a mischievous wink to her friends, the blonde woman turned her attention back to the students.

"Hi there. How are you…?" Her eyelashes batted gently and she ran a slow hand through her hair. Oh was she enjoying this _way_ too much. The poor, enraptured students drank up her charms.

"Hello there pretty lady. How's-…Kurosaki-san?" The voice which started out slow and almost deep turned shrill as his train of thought changed. Riku looked past the beautiful woman at the orange-haired man standing several feet behind her. Now Riku spluttered.

"K-kuro-kurosaki! Aha! So you were meeting someone spec-" Riku's words were murdered by Ichigo's glare. Advancing, Ichigo was about to knock Riku into the next century when Kenta showed up.

"Kurosaki-san! So you did have plans." The surly man eyed Matsumoto's chest region for longer than necessary. Having had her fun, the thoroughly ogled woman kicked them both in the stomach and walked back to her friends. Renji, Hisagi and Ikkaku doubled over in laughter. Yumichika muttered about ugly pain noises And Hinamori looked ready to curl in a ball and die.

"Kurosaki," Riku grunted out, "what are you doing here with all those lieutenants? Do you know them?" His eyes lit up at the prospect of being friends with the man who got more mysterious by the minute. First sneaking off after classes and then being seen around Sereiti with high class shinigami; Riku didn't think Kurosaki Ichigo, or his day, could get better.

"Who are these two, Ichigo?"

Riku turned to the small, black-haired nymph who had posed the question. Ichigo looked from Rukia to Riku and wasn't sure if he wanted to kill him or smuggle Rukia away from Riku's perverted, Keigo-like eyes.

"And who are you…?" The boys eyes travelled slowly up and down her petite frame.

Yep. Definitely kill Riku.

Ichigo stalked forward but was tugged back at the last minute by a small but strong hand. Warning purple eyes locked with his and he questioned them for a minute but backed down nonetheless. Rukia slipped soundlessly forward.

"Hello. My name is Kuchiki Rukia." She lathered her voice in that schoolgirl honey, "May I please ask you ask you a question?"

Riku all but drooled. Rukia spoke again, normally this time.

"If I am addressing you and my eyes are on my face, why are you looking at my chest?"

Catching his bluff, Riku tried to recover himself but was unable to before a large hand slammed into the side of his head. Ichigo was suddenly behind Rukia, amber eyes shining with fury. The two shinigami watched the student fall to the ground and then walked away. The lieutenants followed, laughing.

Kenta, who had been watching (but mostly staring at Matsumoto) stared at the backs of the retreating figures. Out of the shadows, a young boy with white hair and a white robe joined them. A zanpakuto was strapped to his back.

_How strange,_ Kenta thought, _how did Kurosaki meet so many high-ranking shinigami? Who is _he_?_

Before completely passing out, Riku came to two several realizations. First, Ichigo was friends with powerful people, meaning Ichigo must be powerful himself. Second, _Ichigo_ was the one to strike when Riku had tried to make a move on Rukia. And thirdly, Rukia, a _Kuchiki,_ called Ichigo by his given name. Everyone, even the students, knew that Kuchikis were the epitome of nobility and by one of them calling a lowly first-year by his given name meant that the selected first-year was something special indeed.

**End Flashback**

Rukia sat cross-legged on top of Ichigo's knees. She laughed at the memory of Student's Day, filling the barren room with her deep, melodic voice. Ichigo smiled too, recalling Riku's face once he woke up.

Shifting to a more comfortable position with her back to the wall and her legs draped over his, Rukia began,

"So, what _did_ happen with the Soutaicho? You were pissy all day after your meeting. Well, more pissy than usual."

The boy grumbled.

"Not much. Like I said, he just looked at my report card and told me what I needed to fix." He wasn't lying, at least, not completely.

"Ichigo…"

He didn't meet her eyes, just looked sideways at the bookshelves and tried to count the grains in the wood. In the dark.

She fell into his side and grabbed his chin so that he was forced to look at her. Sighing, he recanted his ordeal.

"I told you the truth, he really did go over my report card. But we also talked about my hollow." Rukia's eyes darkened.

"I have those special trainings with Sensei and every time my hollow works itself up, the…incident is recorded and the headmaster is shown the record at the end of each week. My hollow has been acting up and well, it got recorded. That's all."

Ichigo raised one hand in a half I-give-up gesture; the other was trapped beneath Rukia. She was quiet. Silence filled the room before they spoke again.

"Ichigo, you don't always have to play this off as something that doesn't matter. No one is going to think you are weak if you want to talk or something. Well, maybe Kenpachi but he doesn't count. It might do you some good to do something _other_ than punch things."

She sighed into his shoulder and moved her hand over his chest. All of their movements were unconscious, meant to let the other know that everything was alright. Silence once again filled the room. For a time, their steady breaths would lead an outsider to believe that the pair slept but that was not the case. Each lay there, comfortably wrapped together yet completely separate in their respective minds. Rukia's drifted here and there and she was considering giving into the weight that tugged at her eyelids. Just then, Ichigo spoke.

"I-…I hate it." His voice was thick and low. "I hate him. He makes me feel weak and I just- I don't know what to do. How do I protect everyone from myself?"

There. He said it; his greatest fear laid out bare for the world, or more importantly Rukia, to see. Releasing a breath, he turned his head slightly from his friend and closed his eyes. Rukia remained silent. _How can I respond to this? What does he want me to say? Or better, what does he need me to say? _

The inky room absorbed all. The moon, invisible behind clouds, let down no light and the darkness was heavy. Rukia risked a glance at Ichigo but, as expected, she saw nothing. Yet, a nagging voice inside her chest that drove her to speak. Finally, she did.

"You don't. You let _me_ protect them."

A/N: Well? This one was pretty long. Yes, I am talking to you…you know who you are. I think this one is ok but not very eventful. Don't worry, I promise it will get better. He just has to get out of school first…anyway, if you have anything you want to let me know about (ideas, comments, concerns, etc.) just let me know through the little button below. Oh, just so you all know, Ichigo and Rukia are not a couple. At this point of the story, they are just best friends comforting each other. I know quite a few of my friends (girl/girl, guy/girl, and guy/guy) who sleep next to each other when one is upset. I am not sure if I will evolve Ichigo and Rukia's relationship into something really serious (like marriage) but I might want to develop it a little more. Please let me know what you think.


	12. Chapter 12

Note I: I just want to thank everyone who actually took the time to review. Your comments were really helpful and I am eternally grateful. Ok, maybe not _that_ grateful but you get the point. The holidays are fast approaching and I am getting more nervous and flustered by the minute. Why does everyone think that because it is the "holiday season," personal space can just be ignored? Fucking bastards keep hugging me. I DON'T LIKE HUMANS SO WHY DO THEY KEEP TOUCHING ME? Meh. That's why I like the internet. No. Physical. Contact.

Note II: I hope all of you are having a good season so far. For the most part, mine was bearable but there were some mishaps. I did what I usually do and avoided my family by hiding in some god-forsaken corner with a book. Unfortuantely, I also fucked up my eye and I now have to wear my glasses (I usually have contacts in) while putting in these antibiotic drops. It sucks. That also means I have to go to karate blind because I can't risk getting my glasses knocked off my face, or worse, my glasses embedded in my skull. That would not be fun…

Now where were we? Oh. Right. Bleach…and the story I should be writing…

Note III: Before that, (yes, on the topic of Bleach) why does everyone seem to think that Ichigo is a moron? Yeah he can be stupid at times but he is still pretty young and has time to grow out of it. He may not be the brightest crayon in the box but he is far from being _stupid_. I don't like how everyone (except Rukia, its ok if she does it) is always telling him how much of a moron he is when he is in the middle of _saving their asses_. *Sigh* Just another thing that bothers me…

Pale gray clouds masked the gleaming sun and coated the world in a white blanket. Walls, trees, grass and shrubs all lay under a thick shell of snow and the overall effect was rather spectacular. The icy fingers creeping up the window panes were a testament to the freezing temperatures outside the warmth of the small dormitory. Two figures, under several thick blankets, lay curled together, craving the others heat, and fast asleep throughout poignant scene. Feet padded softly somewhere down the hall. However, the beds occupants were oblivious.

The door to the small room silently slid open. A gray head popped in and turned towards the bed, ready to scold his student for sleeping so late. They had a training session to begin. Then, Sensei's eyes caught the _two_ bodies in the bed. A smile crept over his face and pulling out of the room, Sensei closed the door as quietly as it had been opened.

With a satisfied sigh, Rukia curled into the warm _something _that occupied the bed next to her. Hiking the blankets up higher on her shoulders, the woman mumbled something unintelligible and let sleep overtake her once more.

Ichigo stretched an arm over his head and felt his knuckles brush against the wall behind him. He was comfortable, warm, and content. Classes were done, there was no homework, it was snowing and Rukia was curled into his side like she had always been there. Life seemed all bright and sunny.

Hold the phone.

Who was curled into his side?

Peeking out of the corner of his eye, his line of sight caught his small counterpart's head, resting comfortably against his shoulder. Her hand rested on his chest while her legs tangled with his. Slender fingers held the fabric of his shirt, right over his heart. To make Ichigo more confused, his arm had somehow wrapped itself around her middle and pulled her closer to him. His legs, though twisted up with hers, didn't feel constricted or restrained; he was content. And somehow, he couldn't bring himself to wake her up or even move. All the orange-haired man wanted to do was to lay there, warm in her embrace. He couldn't explain the feeling, it just felt right. So, with that settled in his mind, he closed his eyes once more.

Unfortunately, fate did not see fit to give him peace. It was at that moment that Rukia chose to open her eyes and look directly across Ichigo's defined chest. She saw her hand curled in his shirt and felt his arm linking her to him. Then she focused in on her legs intertwined with two warm, strong somethings: his legs. While one half of her soul hoped that she wouldn't and the other half hoped that she did, Rukia looked up into a pair of amber eyes. Bewilderment and apprehension were plainly reflected back as Ichigo mimicked her disbelief. Staring at each other, the pair thought their lives couldn't get any worse. Then Sensei walked in.

"Alright kiddos. I let you sleep late so now you both train extra. Got it? Good. Now get your asses out of bed and let's go do this thing. Ichigo-san, more kidou; Rukia-san, work on your Zanjutsu forms. Come o- what?" Sensei raised an eyebrow at the couple in bed who looked at him like he had four heads and feathers.

Ichigo stared and Rukia didn't know where to look. Then comprehension dawned on Sensei.

"Oh. I get it. You didn't mean for this to happen, it's all a big mistake, you aren't together, it's not what it looks like, please don't tell my brother, I swear we didn't do anything…yeah yeah yeah. Just get over it and get up. I know you didn't do anything, I know what happened. Relax. I don't care. In fact, I like Rukia-san so even if you did do something, I wouldn't have minded. I might even support it. No I won't tell Kuchiki-sama or anyone else. Now close your mouths and get training."

Ichigo and Rukia remained motionless.

"Alright. Uhh…meet on the field in an hour. That should give you time to sort…whatever this is…out. Do. Not. Be. Late." With that, Sensei turned on his heel and marched away.

Amber eyes flickered towards violet and the colors met and clashed. With creased brows and storming eyes, the two rose to play another round of their I-can-break-the-sound-barrier-faster-than-you-can-game but suddenly, they stopped. Neither knew what to say. Rukia tried but all that came out was strangled garble. Ichigo, for once, remained silent. He didn't know if he should cringe, hide, brace himself for impact, apologize, or just not say anything. His mind ran around in circles, screaming at itself while Zangetsu looked outward with an amused smirk. Oh what had his soul-partner gotten himself into now…?

"So…ah…" His voice cracked.

Life seems to return back to Rukia and her eyes flashed dangerously.

"'So'? Is that all you can say? We wake up in bed together and all you can freaking say is 'so'!"

"Ahh…" Now, his mind stopped trying to figure out what the hell was going on and simply devoted all of its energy into storing the necessary power for his body to recover after Rukia was through with him.

"…I'm…sorry, Rukia. I don't really know what to say. I am just as freaked out as you are."

"Don't apologize."

"Well what do you want me to do?" Now he was annoyed. "I can't just go back in time and make it un-happen! 'Sorry' is the best I can do! And it's not like we did anything so I don't know why you are yelling at me!" By the end, Ichigo was red in the face and breathing hard. He didn't realize that he had been holding his breath.

"You're the one yelling at me, moron." Rukia all but jumped out of bed and skipped to the window. She threw it open and smiled at the crystals that fell on her small nose, paying no mind to the flustered man behind her. She stayed that way until she knew Ichigo was calm. Then she turned around.

"Better?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'm sorry. I guess we were both a little freaked out. Nothing happened so we can just move on. Ok?" Her lips tugged up in a little smile. It was barely visible to most but Ichigo, knowing her face well, realized what that small smile meant. He returned it.

"Che. Alright. Let's go train."

Together, they walked out of his dorm room and down to the training field.

"Your lovers spat all settled? Or am I going to be patching the two of you up at the end of today?" Despite the twinkle in Sensei's eyes, his voice was stern.

"No, Sensei. It's ok." Ichigo smirked. Rukia elbowed him hard in the side. Sensei laughed.

"Alright, now what was I saying before? Oh yes. Rukia, you go over there and work on your Zanjutsu. Keep an eye on the kid here and be ready to hit the deck if there's a wild shot. It happens more than I am comfortable with."

"Hey! I've gotten better! It's not that bad anymore." Sensei paid no heed to the orange-haired man's protests.

"And you, Ichigo-san, I don't want to see your lovely little friend, got it? We have had more than enough guest appearances by him this week than we should have. He is starting to annoy me. Now, where were we? Oh yes, Shakka-hou; the Red-Flame Cannon."

Rukia turned to the men.

"Sensei, I don't mean any disrespect but shouldn't Ichigo start on something a little more basic than Red-Flame Cannon? I mean, though he has come a long way from what he was, he still only has a fingertips grasp on his powers and Shakka-hou just seems a little too dangerous for him to be using so early."

Sensei heaved a loud sigh.

"Rukia-san, you of all people are very well aware of Ichigo's power. While I would love to run him through the basics, it is not physically possible. The first spell, Sai, could very well bind every soul, shinigami or not, within 12 kilometers. He doesn't have the control necessary to focus the reaitsu on one person. The rudimentary spells are far too basic for him and would be counterproductive for him to learn. No, we must work backwards with Ichigo-san; teach him those spells that use massive quantities of power and then teach him how to then slowly funnel his energy down into smaller amounts so he can do things like binding one person at a time or hitting a target the size of a grape. It sounds strange, I know, but it is the only way he can learn. His case is…unique, for lack of a better word."

Satisfied with his explanation, Sensei turned back to his student and barked out further instructions.

"Ha! Did you see that! And you said I wasn't any good at Kidou!" Ichigo crowed his victory to his small companion as well as the fairly crowded streets of Sereiti. After many, many attempts, Ichigo had finally succeeded in sustaining and controlling a spell. The achievement proved that with the right instruction, he actually might have a chance at mastering Kidou. Beside him, Rukia smiled proud of his feat. She knew how difficult that control was for him and the fact that he had not only been able to achieve it but also that she had witnessed it made it a special moment for the both of them. She couldn't let him have all the fun though.

"You? I never doubted you for a minute." With a raunchy smile and wink combination, Rukia playfully shoved him sideways. "But what were you saying a few weeks ago? How I was too small to swing Sode No Shirayuki? Ha! That cut on your back says otherwise, eh Ichigo?" The raven-haired woman-child danced in front of her now scowling partner. She grinned wildly and poked him in the sides where she knew he was ticklish, not stopping until he cried out with tormented mirth.

"Say, Rukia. Where are we going anyway?"

"Oh, just a little place. Figured you would want to get out of the dorm, that's all." The woman bared her teeth in a pearly grin and grabbed his hand. Rukia pulled Ichigo through the masses of people to a small, dimly lit tavern. The host seemed to know her face and allowed her passage through a throng of loud, drunk, and obnoxious men. Shooting a glare at them, Rukia tugged at Ichigo's hand and tried to pull him through gaps in bodies that were much too small for him to even dream of fitting through.

"Ah…Ru- ow…Rukia! Wait! No! Ah…that's my shoulder…ah!" He groaned and grimaced as the small woman nearly wrenched his arm from his socket.

"If you weren't so big Ichigo, we wouldn't have a problem."

"Me? Big? Rukia, I'm normal sized. You're the one with the size issue."

Oh shit. Now he did it.

With a glare mighty enough to bring Kenpachi to his knees, Rukia turned on Ichigo. He didn't even have time to flinch before a dainty foot caught his midsection and landed with a satisfying _whumpf_. The man doubled-over while the now smiling woman continued dragging him through the crowd of bodies.

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. He was going to get nothing out of her, he knew that much. With a shrug of his shoulder, he gave in and let her lead him by the hand.

A low wooden archway spanned almost an entire wall. Maroon curtains dangled by invisible hooks and the cloth rippled from the movement of bodies behind it. Rukia marched toward it with intent.

Without stopping or informing Ichigo of the plan, she ripped away the curtain revealing what seemed like most of the Gotei 13 officers. Renji and Ikkaku bounded up to Ichigo and caught him around the neck in a rough estimation of bear-headlock-hug. The orange-haired man struggled to escape but after failing miserably several times, contented himself to wrapping his arms around their waists and laughing.

"What the hell is all of this for?"

Slinging a muscled arm around his shoulder, Renji laughed,

"You've finished one semester of your classes. I don't know what the hell goes on in the World of the Living but here in Soul Society it is only customary to have a party in celebration! Let's all drink to that!"

The crowded cheered and pulled out drinks from nowhere, no doubt it was all provided by Matsumoto. Somehow, a small glass was thrust into Ichigo's hand and he threw it back without a second though. A glance to his right told him that Rukia had just done the same. The alcohol spread warm finger from his belly outward until every part of him was comfortably tingly. A smile split his face and laughter boomed in every corner of the room.

The night passed in a blur and Ichigo only vaguely remembered leaving. Returning home was something he would never recall.

A/N: Alright, I guess I am…no…I'm not. I'm not too pleased with this chapter. Sorry it took so long but the stress of finals and the holidays just nearly did me in. Oh lordy I can't wait until my parents go back to work and my brother goes back to school (haha he's in highschool so he has those terrible school hours that us college kids don't have) 'cause then I will have the entire house to myself for eight hours a day. Lovely, lovely…


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